The Real World ... Blogger Style: Drinking with the Fishes

Friday, January 21, 2005

Drinking with the Fishes

I know my posts would go over a lot better with visual aids, but sorry, use your imaginations.

So every 3rd Thursday the Academy of Science hosts a happy hour in the musuem. It is really fun, because you can wander around with a glass of booze staring into the trippy exhibits, like the metal casts of ants nests--which look like M.C. Escher pathways descending in spirals, stopping at platforms and running down deep into the ground, or you can press your nose against the glass and watch the giant alligator gar swim in its terrible slow sad circles.

Someone with a grim sense of humor designed the fish tanks in a style I can only describe as "industrial chic"--that is, instead of giving the fishies naturalistic environments--you know, plants, sand, little caves, etc, they gave them urban hidey holes, I guess to mimic the encroaching human shit on their habitats.

You have not lived until you have seen a giant moray eel poking out of a pvc pipe. It was sad and disturbing and since eels look like giant turds anyway, a little gross. They had all these giant primeval fishes--fishes the color of dust, fishes that are so ancient and alien it makes your skin creep--partly because they are so other, and partly because they are penned up in all that glass instead of cruising the Amazon and eating pygmies, or something.

So all these drunk yuppies San Franciscans were peering groggily at the fish, and rattling the ice in their drinks, and my companion found it all rather too much, so we wound up by the kiddie pool on some plastic naptime mats, but nothing interesting happened. I watched a pop-eyed goldfish eat its own poo while my companion talked about the evil republican regime.

Two lost souls swimmin' in a fish bowl, how right you were, Mr. Floyd, how right you were.